Breaker Breaker
by BittersweetSonata
Summary: His smile is more than meets the eye. {They're like Bonnie and Clyde, and she doesn't know when she first fell in love with him, or if maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome, but it scares her just a little bit.} - gang!au nalu, gruvia, gale, jerza
1. Out of the Ordinary

** Notes: Revised, like I said I would do. Summary changed, by the way. I might change it again, I don't know yet. **

** Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all for fun. **

** Go on, fuel your fire. **

Chapter One

Out of the Ordinary

* * *

_{Can you whisper, as it crumbles and breaks__} _

* * *

Lucy Heartfilia sighs as she scribbles her class notes into a notebook. For once, class is almost completely silent, the only sound besides the teacher's voice being that of pencils scratching against paper and the sound of page turning.

For an honor student like her, this is bliss.

Of course, she could also be at home, curled up on her sofa with a seven hundred page novel in one hand, and a mug of tea in the other, and she'd still be okay. But school was important, no matter what other teens her age claimed, and that was why she is here instead of there.

Even though she already knew everything that have been taught in today's class.

Not to mention her GPA was higher than most of her classmates. And teachers, but hey, who was counting?

The bell rings, the last one for the day, and almost every student sighs in relief. Their English Lit teacher, a crabby man by the name of Gran Doma, raps his hard oak desk with a cane he keeps nearby.

"Don't forget that in two days you turn in your fifteen page essay on the topic of Shakespeare's most famous plays." at this, more than half of the class groans. "And tomorrow, we'll be going over the life and history of Edgar Allen Poe, so be sure to read pages two hundred and sixty-three to two hundred eighty-seven tonight."

Lucy smiles a little to herself as she slips her books into her messenger bag. She'd started reading Shakespeare when she was eight, and she is well versed in the history of Edgar Allen Poe, so this assignment will be a breeze. Not to mention the fact that she'd already finished her essay two days prior.

The blonde stands, and files out of the class with her fellow students. Adjusting her bag that is slung over her shoulder, she tries to maneuver her way through the mass of students and over to her locker.

"Man, Doma sure is a cranky old geezer, isn't he?"

The voice of her alcoholic friend startles her, and she turns to see the brunette walking beside her. She gives the blonde a grin, a wink, and a two-fingered salute as a greeting. "'Sup Lucy?"

Said girl sighs. "Cana, you _know _we shouldn't talk about our teachers like that."

"Yeah, 'cause they can see and hear _everything _we do inside the premises of this prison we call _high school._"

Lucy jumps as a pair of hands clamp down on her shoulders and the female voice whispers those words into her ears in an eerie tone. The seventeen-year-old becomes rigid instantly, and Cana bursts into laughter.

Lisanna Strauss waves a hand and smiles apologetically. "Sorry Lucy. I couldn't help it."

The blonde rolls her eyes. "_Sure_ you couldn't. Anyway," she turns and gave the laughing Cana a pointed look, "we shouldn't talk like that because we're here to learn, and they're here to give us an education."

The brunette puts her hands behind her head. "Ha, you're probably the only one who thinks that."

"I think education is important." Lisanna comments as they near their lockers.

Lucy nods and lifts her combination lock and starts to turn it. "See, Lis thinks so too."

Cana rolls her eyes as she pulls a Biology book out of her locker. "Yeah, yeah. Well I'm sure the rest of the school sides with me on this one." she slams the metal door shut. "So, are we still on for tonight?"

Lisanna quietly closes her locker and turns to the brunette. "I can still come, as long as Mira doesn't need me to work tonight."

The brunette turns to her other friend who is pulling a cream-colored jacket out of her locker. "What about you Lucy? Still coming?"

The blonde slips her bag off before pulling on her jacket. "I have to take Levy's assignments and homework to her." she pats her bag. "And I have to run to the supermarket because my food stock is running low. I may still come, but if I do, I'll be a little late."

The three begin to walk towards the school entrance. Cana shrugs and grins. "Don't worry about it. I mean hey, we're just having a movie night. It's not like we're shopping for a wedding dress or something like that."

Her two friends laugh, and Lucy adjusts her messenger bag. "Yeah, thanks." she waves to them as she turns down a different street. "See you guys!"

"Tell Levy I said hello!" Lisanna calls after her.

"Oh, for me too!" Cana yells. "Tell her I envy her not having to come to school!"

The blonde shakes her head in amusement as she walks on, hearing Lisanna scold the brunette about what she had said because 'Levy was sick and you wouldn't want to be sick too, would you?'. She sighs again as she makes her way to her best friend's house.

Lucy lives by herself, in an apartment on Strawberry Street. Her mother had died when she was only a little girl, and she didn't want anything to do with her father. It is a bit lonely, living by herself, but she has a small dog named Plue, and she'd made friends with Levy, Cana, and Lisanna at school.

Currently, Levy was out sick with some kind of virus or something, and so Lucy was taking her assignments to the girl. It was a good thing that the blunette was an honor student as well, or else she might not be okay with just her assignments and homework without any instruction on how to do them.

It was also a good thing that Levy only lived a few blocks from the school, because the autumn air and breeze was biting at Lucy's bare legs, face, and hands.

The blonde sticks her cold hands into the pockets of her jacket, trying to warm them up. She was really regretting not wearing a scarf, and the short light pink skirt she'd chosen that morning wasn't really helping her situation either.

So she is glad when Levy's house comes into view, and picked up her pace just a bit. She isn't able to stay for very long, just to hand Levy her papers, books, and also some notes that Lucy had taken for her earlier that day. Then, with a wave and a smile she leaves, not wanting Levy to be exposed to the cold for too long, as that would only make her worse.

The blonde sticks her hands in her pockets once more, wishing that she could just skip grocery shopping and go home, where she knows it would be warm and comfortable. But all she has in her refrigerator is a slice of cheese and a leftover burrito from when she went out to eat with her friends two nights before. And _maybe _she haz a can of tomato soup and a package of stale soda crackers in her cupboard, but she'd rather be safe than sorry.

So, Lucy starts her trek to the supermarket to restock her kitchen. It is a little warmer in the store, and she tries to stay away from the freezer sections until she has to grab some milk, cheese, and other cold food items. After putting those things into her basket, along with a loaf of bread, ingredients for muffins and cookies, several types of fruit and vegetables, lunch meat, and juice, she checks out.

It's even colder when she emerges from the market, the cold food items in the brown paper bags she is carrying making it even worse. The sky has been cloudy all day, but now it looks threatening, sinister, and the air around her seems to turn ominous.

The blonde begins her walk home, shifting the bags in her arms around every once in a while. Her brows furrow when she notices that the streets and sidewalks seem to be deserted. It is unusual, because even though it looks like it is about to pour down rain any second (and she sincerely hopes it won't), the streets of Magnolia would still be filled with non-pedestrian traffic.

She starts to become uneasy, eyes roaming her surroundings, looking for anything else out of the ordinary. But everything is completely silent except for the howl of the wind. Not a sign of life anywhere.

Something is definitely not right.

Suddenly, a sleek-looking black car pulls around the curb, and Lucy expects it to just keep driving on. But it doesn't, instead, the driver slows the car almost to a crawl, keeping the vehicle at least three hundred feet away from her.

The blonde starts to panic. This is just like the scene in all the movies and television episodes where one of the characters get kidnapped. She breaks into a brisk walk, almost a jog. She just has to reach her home on Strawberry Street, it's just two blocks away. If she can reach that, she can call the police, she can lock her doors, and she would be alright.

But when she speeds up, so does the car, and in that moment the seventeen-year-old knows that whoever these people are, that they're after her. Lucy breaks into a run, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her knees are shaking, making it harder to run, but she isn't going to let that stop her.

She has just turned the corner onto Strawberry Street when the car following her suddenly speeds up, and the next thing she knows, two men in suits are getting out and they have grabbed her. The blonde drops her recently purchased bags of groceries and they fall to the ground. An assortment of fruits and vegetables roll out of the bags and some into the street. Eggs break when they hit the cement sidewalk, and milk splatters all over the pavement when the carton breaks upon making contact with the hard ground.

She struggles against her captors' hold on her, kicking and screaming, praying that someone – _anyone _– will come to her rescue. But a hand is clamped over her mouth and she is dragged to the rather expensive looking car that her abductors had been riding in.

Yes, something is definitely off, and as Lucy sits between her two kidnappers in the backseat of that black BMW, with each man holding one of her arms in a tight grip, she has a feeling that she is about to find out just what it is.

.

.

.

_(You have 3 new voicemails) _

* * *

_{As you shiver, count up all your mistakes} _

* * *

**So there it is. **

**Who was calling Lucy, I wonder? **

**Song is 'Young Blood' by Birdy. Good song, good artist. **

**Reviews make the world go 'round. **


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

** Notes: Revised and edited due to this chapter being too similar to moon strut's 'Hollow Point.' It's awesome. You should totally go and read it. Still some similarities though. But that's just because I didn't want Gray to kill some random person. **

** I actually proofread this. Be happy. **

Chapter Two

The Calm Before the Storm

* * *

_{We'll be fine I'm sure, just use the other door} _

* * *

Juvia Lockser doesn't believe in ghosts and spirits. She doesn't believe in the supernatural – or at least that's what she always tells herself when she's walking out to her car late at night. It's easier that way, not to be scared out of your wits when you're trying to locate your car in an already empty parking lot in the pitch dark. It was always empty besides her manager's car and her own anyway.

But as she stares out the window at the rain pelting the opaque panes, she can't help but feel an unearthly presence. The sky is dark and angry, pouring out all of its sorrows onto the earth below. Gray _gray _clouds blanket the blue sky and keep any sunlight from streaming through to the dark world below.

There's a cool breeze outside, and she can tell by the trees waving back and forth across the street – red, orange, yellow, and brown leaves flying everywhere the wind takes them. She watches as they make intricate swirls and turns in the air, her tired sapphire orbs following the now dead leaves as they travel along. The boring color names don't do them a justice. They're much prettier than just plain old red, yellow, orange, and brown. There's carmine or fire brick to replace the red, deep goldenrod and saffron instead of yellow, mahogany and rust to take the place of orange, and sienna or burnt umber rather than just _brown. _She likes those much better, she decides.

The blunette can also tell that it's windy out because of the cold draft currently making its way through the old building. It's from a window that hadn't been properly sealed when installed, and her manager has just never bothered to get it fixed.

It was always like this when there was a cold breeze outside.

She shivers and lets out a shaky breath, her pale fingers pulling the edges of her tan sweater down further.

She's never liked the rain. It reminds her of failed relationships and her bad childhood, and she's tried _oh so hard _to put that all behind her. Her roommate and only friend always says she's a gloomy sort of girl, and she knows that she is. He's not exactly a model person either – what with all those piercings and his tendency to be rude, not to mention his quick and hot temper, as well as his foul language – but it's okay. Neither of them are very sociable people, so they get along just fine. They've known each other since high school, so they're used to one another.

It's odd, Juvia muses to herself, that she would pick such a place to work. Nobody hardly ever visits the small and old bookstore, and it _can _get boring sometimes. But it's alright, because she doesn't like to deal with people much.

Her manager is weird, that much she can say. He's big and just plain odd, always going on about how 'sad' something is when in her eyes, it's really not. He wore the word out long ago, in her opinion. But he doesn't bother her much, and she always gets a nice paycheck anyway, even if she's not sold a book in months. It still comes every week, and she wonders how he can pay her when the business is practically smashing against the rocks.

But he's not fired her, or made any mention of letting her go, and for that, she is thankful.

It certainly _is_ odd though.

She glances at the clock on the wall – old, like everything else in this shop – and it read a little after five. The blunette feels her spirits drop just a bit more, as her shift doesn't end 'til ten, when the shop closes for the night. She glances around and picks up a book – _Pride & Prejudice_ – that she had been reading earlier that day.

It was funny, she could finish a six hundred or less page book in a day because she had almost no interruptions. It was almost like she got paid to read.

At about half past six, the rain still hasn't let up, and instead has gotten a little worse. As have her spirits. She's not even finished her book yet, because she's felt so down.

It's starting to get darker now, she notices, and not just because of the dark clouds, but because the sun is starting to set. Not that she can see it, of course. Which was unfortunate, because the blunette likes sunsets, and it would certainly lift her spirits.

But nay. It's rainy and she can't see it at all.

The small bell above the door rings, and she feels just a little excitement. Her manager always enters through the back door, so it must be a customer.

Secretly she hopes that it's the pretty blonde girl she's befriended just a little. They both love to read, and she always expresses how much fun it would be to work in a shop like this, even though Juvia tells her that it's really no fun at all when there are no customers besides herself.

But the blonde – Lucy is her name – just laughs and smiles, claiming that it would be even better, because she would have all the time in the world to read.

And Juvia considers mentioning her to Aria – her manager – for hire, each time she comes. In fact, she has actually worked up enough nerve and courage to ask him tonight after lockup.

Lucy would love it here, even more if she worked in the shop.

And maybe Juvia would make another friend.

That would be nice, she decides.

But when she looks up, there is no one there, and the eerie feeling she'd had earlier returns. Because she knows she'd heard the bell ring.

It must have been the wind, she decides as she returns to her book.

Just the wind.

And she doesn't notice the pair of cold eyes eyeing her from outside the window.

* * *

It's late when she turns off the pretty antique lamp that sits on her large old oak desk. It's one of those old ones with a brass base and a green glass shade that casts a dim yellow glow. She likes it, because she likes old and antique things. They make her feel sad, but it's okay, because sad is just happy for deep people.

She sighs deeply as she picks up her navy purse – it's nice and pretty, with flowers, and that's why she bought it – and casts one last glance behind her. The shop is dark, with shadows dancing around the large room because of the streetlight illuminating the rain still pelting the large picture window.

And it certainly is eerie.

Juvia likes mystery and horror stories, the thick kind that send delicious chills and shivers down your spine. The kind that you can't put down because you're so glued to them. Like _Dracula_. But she doesn't get pleasant shivers tonight. They're the bad kind: the kind that you get when you feel something bad is about to happen.

It's about half past ten when she opens her umbrella – she's glad she brought it today – and attempts to locate her car in the dark and empty parking lot.

Only, it's not empty. There's another car there, and it's one she doesn't recognize.

And she feels just a little bit scared.

That feeling only gets worse as she notices that there's another car beside hers – one that she recognizes, because the strange one is parked a few lots away from hers. It belongs to her manager, and she thinks that just maybe he's going out with a friend; that everything is fine.

She lets out a breath she doesn't know that she's been holding, and realizes that she's stopped walking toward her car.

"Silly Juvia." she whispers to her herself in a light and breathy voice. Her self-admonishment is caught and lost in the howling wind.

And it is ever so eerie outside in the dark with the wind and rain.

The blunette shakes her head lightly, and resumes her trek through the steadily rising puddles to her car. On another night, she may have stopped for just a little while to jump in them. Skip from one to the next, smiling and laughing to herself.

But not tonight.

Tonight she feels like she needs to make herself as small and as invisible as possible. And she doesn't know why, but she does it.

Her manager is standing a few feet away from his car, and she wonders why he looks so still and stiff. There's a flash of lightning that makes her jump, and she notices that there's another man hiding in the shadows.

But then she can't see him again because the light fades, and thunder rolls in the distance.

She didn't miss the horrified look on Aria's face though.

And she wonders what exactly is going on.

Then, there's a gunshot – just _one_ – and it resounds, bouncing off walls and lampposts and everything it possibly could, shattering the façade of the previously peaceful and quiet night.

Her eyes are wide as she watches in horror as her manager falls to the ground, a single hole in his chest, where his heart should be. Suddenly the night is all too quiet and deathly still. The air is thick and she can't breathe because it feels like it's choking her.

Juvia's grip on the handle of the pink umbrella she is holding loosens, and it falls to the ground. Her eyes are unbelievably wide and she is unable to tear them away from the scene before her. Her mind is screaming, telling her to run, to get out of here as fast as she can, but her body just won't comply.

So she stays.

She is frozen to her spot, and water is seeping through her boots because she's standing in a puddle but she doesn't notice. The cold autumn wind rustles through the trees, and blowing her long cornflower-colored locks about her.

And it is _so _still and quiet and _so _hard to breathe.

She feels something wet on her cheeks, and she's not sure if it's the rain, or if she's crying.

There's another crack of lightning – much _much _brighter this time – and she sees him again, and he's walking toward her.

His eyes are dark – a deep _deep _blue – almost black, and she feels like she could get lost in them because they go on _forever. _But they are dark and hollow and empty and they scare her because there's a look in them that sends cold shivers down her spine because they're ever so _eerie _and _haunting. _

She just barely notices that it feels like the temperature has dropped several degrees and that she's not just shivering from her fear now.

His hair is dark and tousled, as if he'd just risen from a deep sleep, and his skin is pale. Not as pale as her own, but still pale. The streetlight starts to flicker ominously and it makes the silver pendant – she can't decide if it looks like a cross or a sword, maybe both – hanging around his neck shine.

He's wearing a crimson red dress shirt the same color as the pool of blood that's becoming ever bigger around what _used to be _her manager, paired with dark jeans and he is missing a tie. But he's handsome, probably the handsomest man she has ever seen in her life.

She stiffens as he reaches out a cold, _cold _hand and lightly touches her cheek, and she's too afraid to even try to breathe now. Because this man has just murdered her boss before her very eyes.

Thunder rolls again, much closer this time, and she's so very scared. His voice is deep and rich, but strangely reminds her of the calm before the storm as he speaks two words that make her heart drop the rest of the way.

"Hello, Juvia."

* * *

Lucy wishes that she'd never gotten out of bed that morning. Or that she hadn't gone grocery shopping. Or that, for once in her life, Cana's stubbornness would kick in, and that she'd dragged Lucy along with her and Lisanna. Maybe that she had taken the bus or a cab home. Problem was, she didn't have the money for that right now as she was in between jobs.

If any of those things had happened, then she wouldn't have been kidnapped. Stolen, right in front of her house. Where were her neighbors? Where had everyone else been?

Granted, they were probably being smart, and had cleared the streets because of the oncoming storm. She doesn't blame them, it was what she would have done too.

She attempts to swallow the lump that has formed in her throat, but it doesn't work out so well.

She's sitting in between two rather large men – compared to her size – in a fancy BMW and she doesn't know where they are headed.

She's scared.

Really scared.

They pass the old bookshop that she likes to visit, where her friend Juvia works. They've only talked about five times, but she's always there for hours longer than she intends and they usually have such a good time talking together.

Now she'll probably never see her again.

It's a gloomy thought, and only serves to worsen her mood.

They pull up outside of a warehouse on the outskirts of Magnolia, and she starts to panic. This is it, isn't it? She asks herself, unshed tears stinging in her eyes. The car comes to a stop, and her kidnappers hustle her out. Her body is limp, the tips of her toes barely brushing the gravel as they drag her along with them. Her heart is in her throat, and the blood is rushing in her ears.

She's surprised when they switch vehicles, and they load her into a very new looking Camaro. It's unfortunate that she's too scared to really appreciate the car.

Her captors climb in beside her, and she's even more frightened now. As they pull out of the drive again, the one on her left looks down, and she can see a light of pity in his eyes.

He looks familiar, but she's too scared right now to think straight.

"I'm terribly sorry about this, Miss Heartfilia," he pauses, "Lucy. But we have orders." he speaks softly to her, and she notices his partner on her right go a little rigid.

"O-orders?" she stutters, her whole body shaking.

The man smiles just a bit, and suddenly she remembers how she knows him.

She's watched his son, Romeo, before. Several times in fact.

And suddenly it feels like she can't breathe. Her eyes become wider (if that's even possible) and her jaw drops just a bit.

"M-Mr. C-Conbolt?!" she cries as they drive, suddenly feeling betrayed, and it's like a hard slap across the face for the both of them.

His small smile saddens. "Hello, Lucy."

The rest of the ride is quiet, and the blonde just wants to make it all go away. They're driving and driving and driving. Farther and farther away from her nice, cozy home, and it makes her nauseous. Her head hurts and her eyes burn, and she doesn't even bother to hold the tears back now. She doesn't sob, just lets them stream down her cheeks, leaving salty wet trails as they drop onto her cloths and the expensive interior of the car.

But she doesn't care.

She doesn't even recognize where they are anymore. Macao Conbolt assures her that they are still in Magnolia when he sees her distress, but it does little to soothe her.

Lucy shuts her eyes tightly and covers her ears, willing it all to go away. If she wishes hard enough, she might just wake up, because this all has to be some _horrible nightmare _and if she tries hard enough, she will wake up. She'll be in her own bed, safe and sound. Everything will be alright.

So she shuts the surrounding world out, and wills it all to go away. That's what little children do, after all, when they're afraid. And it seems to work so well for them. So she pretends.

But it doesn't last long as she feels the car come to a stop once more, and their driver speaks something to someone. Who, she doesn't know, because it doesn't seem as if he's addressing Macao or the other man with him. So she opens her eyes.

They're sitting in front of a set of large, intricate, wrought-iron gates. Through the black metal spires she can see a glimpse of an even bigger mansion. And for the first time since she's been taken, her curiosity is piqued.

She wants to ask, 'Where are we?' and 'What am I doing here?', but she doesn't, as the gates are opening and they're pulling inside.

Lucy wants to reach out and touch the cool window to help cool down her overly warm body. She's sure it's cool because it's been raining for a little while now and their driver had turned on the heat. Not to mention it was autumn, so it was naturally colder weather. She wishes – longs – to feel her fingertips against the cool surface of the glass, but she's too afraid to reach across either of her captors and touch it. Besides, they were pulling up to the front of the large house now.

She stares warily out at the dead flora around the house, and the no longer running fountain that sits out front in the middle of the large cobblestone drive. It had frosted a few weeks earlier, and a few more times since then, effectively killing off any outdoor plants that weren't hardy in cold weather.

And as Macao opens the door and steps out, reaching a hand in for her to take, she feels pure terror for the first time in years.

The sky finally opens up all the way, and it pours.

* * *

_{Welcome to the storm} _

* * *

** Song is 'The Long Haul' by No. It's sad but beautiful at the same time. **

** Be a good girl (or guy, if you're a guy) and review, yeah? **

** Ja ne, **

** Sonata. **


	3. Not Home

Chapter Three

Not Home

* * *

_{Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire} _

* * *

Lucy stares, wide-eyed, at the scene before her. She doesn't want to get out of the car, she doesn't want to be here. But Macao offers her a hand, and she knows she has to accept it. So she does, and he carefully helps her out of the car. It's poring and the rain is soaking her blonde hair and her clothes, it's dripping down her face, but she doesn't notice because she's focused on the mansion before her.

It looks old, eerie, _haunted._

Just like the place she ran away from, only darker. There was something so much more _sinister _about this place. And at least her father's mansion had flowers and such things that made it feel alive. This place just felt _dead. _

She'd call it a home, but it wasn't one to her.

Macao's partner – his name is Wakaba, according to the driver who's yelling at him – opens an umbrella and holds it over her head, shielding her from the rain.

"_He'll _be angry if she's soaked through and through." the smoking man barely mutters under his breath to Macao. But Lucy hears him, and even in her state of unadulterated fear, she wonders who this person is that Wakaba is speaking of.

Her two kidnappers lead her up the weathered brick drive – she's not sure what you'd call something like this – and to the front doors. It's all cast iron rods and bars, dark and thick mahogany double doors, brick walkways and porches, and knockers instead of doorbells. Like something from a novel, but not a romantic novel. At least, not to her.

The double doors open once they reach the large stoop, and Wakaba closes the umbrella while a maid ushers Lucy inside and another runs off to fetch some towels and a hot drink. The blonde suddenly realizes that she's cold, and is slightly relieved when a warm and dry towel is draped over her shoulders and a mug of something steaming is placed in her freezing hands.

"Miss Heartfilia," one of the maids speaks in a kind tone, and she wonders how exactly they seem to know her name, "the Master is expecting you, so please come with me."

Lucy attempts to swallow the thick lump in her throat, because she doesn't want to _go. _She doesn't know why she's here, why she was kidnapped – and she doesn't want to find _out. _

But the grass-haired maid disregards her internal protesting and leads her up the grand staircase and then down several burgundy-colored carpeted hallways before she stops at a room. "We've got to get you fixed up." she smiles at the younger girl and unlocks the door. "The Master won't be happy to see you in wet clothes and I won't sleep well tonight if you catch cold on my watch."

The blonde steps into the room – it's richly decorated, but the furniture is not at all modern, instead looking like it is from the 18th century. The maid opens the doors of a wardrobe, and pulls out a silk robe and hands it to Lucy.

"Please change into this while I dry your wet clothes." she smiles again, turning to leave. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in here until I come and get you again. I'll be waiting outside the door, just hand me your clothes when you're finished."

The door shuts and Lucy feels alone and scared again.

* * *

Juvia Lockser doesn't move, doesn't blink, doesn't _breathe. _She stands oh so still as the rain from above drips down her pale skin and soaks through her warm coat and into her tan sweater and navy skirt underneath. She looks like a porcelain doll, the biting autumn wind blowing her cornflower locks around her, the streetlight illuminating her pale, _pale _skin, and her sapphire orbs wide, wide, _wide. _

His two words still echo through the air, and she's almost_ sure_ the gunshot is still lingering around somewhere.

She doesn't know this man, she's never met him before in her life.

But he knows her.

And that _terrifies_ her.

He knows her name, who she is, where she works; there's no telling what else he knows about her.

Not knowing scares her.

One side of his lips curls up ever so slightly. "It's raining, don't you think you should pick up your umbrella?" he questions, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. She still doesn't move. "Come on, you don't want to catch a cold, do you?"

No, she would rather not catch a cold, but she'd rather not move either.

His fingers – they're cold, cold, _cold _– are barely brushing her porcelain skin with a soft caress, and she swears it's almost loving.

But it isn't.

His fingers tenderly slide down her cheek, tracing the outline of her jaw, before he dips them under and carefully tilts her chin up, causing her tears to fall. But it's not like anyone could tell, because it was raining anyway.

"Hey now, don't cry."

Well, _most people _couldn't tell.

He removes his hand from under her chin and bends down, reaching past her, but she still doesn't move. She doesn't make a sound because she's afraid that if she does, she won't be able to stop. That she'll scream, and he'll shoot her.

She's not ready to die.

But he stands back up, and he's taller than her again, but she notices that the rain is no longer pelting her skin. They're soaked – both she and him – through and through, and she can clearly see his well-defined muscles from beneath the wet crimson shirt that's clinging to his body.

He places the pink umbrella back into her limp right hand, wrapping her pale fingers around the handle with his larger ones.

They stay like that for a while. With her staring up at him, and him staring down at her.

Then, he reaches out a hand, and she flinches, but all he does is brush some blue locks of hair sticking to her forehead away, and then he pulls his hand back. They're a stalemate, at a crossroads, though she doesn't know what roads those are.

Either he kills her, or he doesn't, she figures.

He finally reaches down, and in that brief second she feels her breath catch in her throat. She expects her life to flash before her eyes, but all she sees is the face of the last boyfriend she'd had – and that was around three years ago.

But instead of reaching for his gun, he pulls out a cellphone, and she's more than a little relieved. She briefly wonders if his phone will still work, because she knows they're both very, very wet and cellphones tend not to work when it's like they've been dropped in the ocean. Especially a phone like his.

She watches as he dials the number, and then holds the phone up to his ear. He waits a few seconds, and then he does something peculiar.

He puts it on speaker.

She's not sure she wants to know why.

"Hello?" a voice answers gruffly, and she realizes who it is almost instantly.

The man in front of her smiles just a tiny bit and holds a finger to his lips.

She's too scared not to comply, although it's not like she was planning on saying anything anyway.

"Good evening," he responds in an almost cheerful tone, "I just called to inform you of something that just came up."

Juvia doesn't quite know where he's going with this.

It's quiet on the other line for a moment.

"What's that?"

His smile turns scary. "I've got something of yours."

* * *

The maid returns after an hour or so to find Lucy sitting on the velvet-cushioned settee, staring at the raindrops traveling down the window panes. She sets the blonde's clothes beside her, causing the seventeen-year-old to turn around.

"Your clothes, Miss Heartfilia. The Master requests your presence in his office soon, so you'd best get ready." the green-haired young woman smiles. Lucy watches as the girl leaves before she cautiously reaches down and lifts her blouse up off the neatly folded pile.

After she is dressed, the maid reenters, still smiling. Lucy wonders how a person could be so happy in a place like this. The young woman leads the blonde down more corridors and up another flight of stairs – just a _little _less grand than the ones on the first floor – before they come to a stop again.

"Here it is." the maid speaks softly, and for once she looks a little worried, maybe even scared. "Good luck, Miss Heartfilia." she whispers before knocking twice on the door.

"Come in."

Bisca smiles at the blonde girl almost trembling before her one last time. "That's your cue, go on in."

Lucy does as she's told, and turns the intricate brass knob before stepping inside. It's a bit dark – due to the dreary storm raging outside – and there's a lamp on at the large desk across the room.

She steps inside, and the door closes behind her, but she's too scared to go any farther.

There's no one at the desk, although there is a chair behind it and the lamp is on. She lowers her eyes, deciding to study the fancy carpeting on the floor instead.

"You don't have to just stand there."

The deep voice startles her and she swears she almost has a heart attack right then and there. Suddenly, there's someone standing in front of her, and so she slowly – _slowly _– raises her chocolate orbs to look at him.

He's handsome – probably the most attractive man she's ever seen. His jaw is firm and set and cut just so – just _right_. He's tall, taller than her by a few inches. His complexion is tan, and she wonders just how that is because it's not been summer for a while now. His eyes, oh his eyes, they're deep and dark and black as onyx, but she can see a small spark – a flare – in them when they make eye contact. Her breath catches in her throat and she doesn't know why.

His hair is pink. And if she wasn't so scared, she'd probably laugh at the absurdity of it.

It doesn't make him any less attractive though, more so if she might be so bold, because somehow he manages to make it work.

They stare at each other for a while, her chest feeling tight for some peculiar reason, before his lips curl into a smile.

She realizes who he is just a split second before he pulls her to him and kisses her.

Natsu Dragneel, the head of Fairy Tail.

* * *

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_(*Beep* Hey Lucy, this is Lisanna. Are you still going to make it to Cana's tonight?) _

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_(*Beep* Lucy? Is everything alright? Where are you?) _

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_(*Beep* Lucy?!)_

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_(This is Lucy Heartfilia. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep, and I'll call you back as soon as I can.)_

_(Please note: I won't be coming home.)_

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* * *

** This is my new favorite story to write, and I don't know why. **

** It's fun for me to write, really, and I get to experiment with present-tense. And that's actually pretty fun to write in as well. **

** I want Poptarts and to go to Disneyland. But what I want most is for you to review. **

** Remember reviews make the world go 'round. **

** - Sonata**


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